


Relief

by Manu



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unbeta'd, Vague canonical placement, inktober prompts, personal fictober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 16:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16162817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manu/pseuds/Manu
Summary: Isaac gets poisoned. It sucks. Scott helps him.





	Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Personal "Fictober" challenge of taking [Inktober's prompts](https://twitter.com/inktober/status/1035886145173745664) and writing something short for each and posting them daily. Ships, fandoms and everything else will vary. Patently unbeta'd.
> 
>  
> 
> Day 1: poisonous

Isaac’s whole body was a scream. Acid was pumping through his veins, irrigating agony to his entire system. His skin was burning. He had ruined his throat from all the yelling and crying, so all it produced was a constant death rattle. His head felt like it was about to… No, it had exploded already and yet he knew the worst was still to come.

Who knew deadly magic poison was that bad?

Through the haze of his pain, he sensed the presence of another person near him. A strong pair of hands touched his face, which made it hurt more; opened his mouth, which also hurt; and poured in some liquid from a vial, which hurt all the way down. Then, all of sudden, the pain began to recede. It wasn’t a torturous and agonizing hell anymore, but still kept the words “torture” and “agony” somewhere in its description. 

“Stop,” he managed to say, his throat on fire, once he realized what was going on. He fought through the aching of his joints, trying to get out of the other person’s grip on his right forearm, without much success.

“You stop,” a voice said and the grip tightened. Isaac’s pain receded some more. He heard the voice grunting.

“Just… let… the antidote… do its work,” Isaac protested, each word a herculean task.

“The pain’ll kill you before it can,” Scott said firmly.

Isaac’s vision became much less blurry. Scott’s face was a mask of concentration and concern, with big sweat drops forming in his forehead and beginning to roll down. Isaac mirrored both the concern and the sweating. He knew what easing other being’s pain was like, if Scott was getting even a tenth of what he had been feeling…

“Please…” he looked down to see Scott’s arms. Huge, black veins protruded from the skin, pulsating and looking just plain evil. Each pulsation made a small fraction of Isaac’s agony go away. Each pulsation made a big chunk of worry and guilt to press down on his chest.

And then, Scott tried to take that away too. He buckled and seemed to almost faint.

“Scott,” Isaac said, an exclamation mark lost in the sea of his frailty and remaining agony.

Scott shook his head and renewed his efforts. Isaac tried to resist it this time; he tried to take back what was his. He pulled back with all his might.

Brown eyes widened in surprise.

“Isaac…” Scott warned, turning the brown to bright red. For once, Isaac did not find comfort in that. What he did find, was himself unable to continue resisting.

He looked at Scott keeping on, writhing and determined. He looked at Scott physically wear down each passing second. Helplessness, awe and guilt all swam together in the depths of his aching heart. At least his stupid savior had gotten the memo and had let him keep those, not that it helped much to his ever-worsening condition.  

The pain had been reduced from horrific, Dantesque torture that seemed endless to your run-of-the-mill Saw-esque torment. Several seconds passed and it was evident the ebbing had plateaued. Scott did not look happy about it.

“You’ve done enough,” Isaac tried. His attempt at reassuringly getting up ended with him on the floor again and a more frustrated Scott.

“I… I can’t… Let me just…” Scott said. He got up.

Scott took off his shirt and then kneeled next to a bewildered Isaac and started to undress him as carefully as he could. Isaac did not protest. He managed a weak “what?” before the rush of cold air reignited some of the feeling of his skin being on fire.

“Hold on,” Scott said, his breathing labored. He took his pants off, then lay down on the floor of the safe house and, despite his clear exhaustion, managed to pull Isaac’s body almost on top of him. He hugged him from behind.

The effect was immediate: a wave of tearworthy relief washed over Isaac.

“Whoa,” he said.

Scott’s hot breath relaxed a bit, but it was apparent it still took quite a lot from him.  

“What’s… this?” Isaac wondered, looking at Scott’s kinda veiny—not black, evil… veiny, but… skin-colored, pleasant veiny—arms crossed on his chest.  

“More skin-to-skin contact… It kinda distributes… Just, just let me work, okay, dude?” Scott answered, hugging Isaac more tightly.

“Did, uh, did Deaton teach you this?” Isaac pressed.

“Dude, shut up,” Scott said with almost a laugh.  

“It’s… it’s nice,” Isaac said, daring to touch Scott’s arm. “And you don’t sound like you’re dying anymore.”

“Neither do you.”

Their breathing slowly evened out, falling into a pleasant synchronized rhythm. Isaac allowed himself to actually feel Scott: to be aware of the contact of skin against skin, of the warmth of his body, of the smell he knew so well by now. That was when Scott began to slowly caress Isaac’s chest and abs. Tentative at first, but soon resolute.

It occurred to him that this was everything that he had somehow come to expect, even if the circumstances weren’t. He had always wanted more with Scott and he knew somewhere inside him that Scott would have been willing to be… more with him. Not to be nice, not out of pity, but genuinely, even gladly. This was as close to that _moreness_ that he had ever gotten to and it was glorious. Glorious even through the dull ache still in his bones and the mustiness of the room. Glorious beyond the danger that awaited outside.

He felt Scott move, his face resting now on the side of Isaac’s neck. He could feel a smile forming. He almost started to cry.

“Are you okay?” the note of… loving concern on his voice was what did it.

Isaac turned around and kissed him.

Scott kissed back. Enthusiastically, with a smile on his lips. Something told Isaac he almost always kissed with a smile. That something was right.

They shifted positions and lay side to side, embracing. They kissed again.

 

“Finally,” they both said, and laughed.

“Let me try something,” Isaac said. Scott nodded, looking deeply into Isaac’s eyes.

He kissed him again and pulled, not in forceful defiance or resistance, but with care, without guilt, with the joy he felt in that moment. He felt the pain coming in. But it wasn’t his pain, it wasn’t physical, and it hadn’t been his.

Had anyone ever done this with Scott? Ease his sorrow just a bit like this? Share the burden of responsibility even a little like this? Acknowledge the trauma and lessen it some simply by finding some kinship to it? To the shared grief that still ran deep? To the shock still of having been dragged to this whole other world?

They mumbled each other’s names some more and got lost in the kissing and the touching and the sharing and the fucking.

Then they lay there, naked and holding each other. Blessed ages later, they heard and smelled the rest of the pack approaching. They got up and looked at each other while they put their underwear and pants on. A quick glance at the closed door and windows and they were hugging, holding each other. Their hands explored each other’s backs some more and they took in each other’s smell yet again. They were kissing, deeply, one last time. The remaining wisp of pain dissolved into nothing.

“Scott?! Isaac?!” they heard Stiles shouting, sick with worry. Other voices similarly followed.

They stopped. They finished getting dressed and went out to greet him and the rest. There were still witches around they had to deal with.

 


End file.
